


Heroes (just for one day)

by Sympathy4theDevil



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:01:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26109862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sympathy4theDevil/pseuds/Sympathy4theDevil
Summary: With a shuddering breath, he realised that very early in his life, it already had been too late.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 11





	Heroes (just for one day)

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah, I wrote this instead of sleeping because Regulus Black is a bit of a mystery and one of my favourite minor(very minor) characters in the series, and when I thought about it, it made me really sad that Sirius had never found out how his brother had died.
> 
> Last night when I was scrolling through Pinterest, I saw a quote from The Lover by Marguerite Duras - _"Very early in my life it was too late"_ , and it gave me such strong Regulus' vibes. He was only 18 when he had died, and no one knew what really happened to him, and when you think about it, his fate was decided for him pretty early in his life.
> 
> I'm also a sucker for Regulus & Sirius relationship, and in my head, losing Sirius was the one thing Regulus truly regretted, so I tried to include it.
> 
> English is not my first language, so this fic has probably a ton of mistakes, and it might be unreadable and pretty awful because I've never written anything, but I am home alone, so there's no one to stop me from posting it.
> 
> Also, the title comes from Heroes by David Bowie.
> 
> And of course, everything you recognize belongs to JK Rowling.

At first, Regulus thought it must have been destiny; the power outage caused the lights in the entire city go out, and for the first time in a very long time, Regulus could see stars from the window of his room at Grimmauld Place Number 12. 

He climbed onto the roof and lay on the half-frozen tiles, remaining invisible to the people walking along the streets three stories below, and stared at the bright dots scattered on the black sky, tracing constellations with his finger and murmuring their names under his nose. 

Regulus remembered the family summers they had spent in the cottage in the countryside. He and Sirius often snuck out of the house under the cover of the night to watch the sky. With hands full of blankets, biscuits and pumpkin juice, they tip-toed out of the cottage and lay in the grass, talking about the stars until they fell asleep under the open sky.

Tonight felt almost like those nights, only instead of still-warm grass there were hard tiles under his back, he had no blankets or biscuits, and Sirius wasn’t by his side to whisper, _“that’s your star, Reggie. The heart of the lion. The Little King.”_

This time, Regulus was alone and on the roof of their house in the middle of London. This time it was late November – wet and cold and windy. This time, instead of happiness and the rush of excitement, Regulus had felt a crippling fear of the inevitable end.

“Tonight I’m going to die,” he whispered to the stars, and his eyes fell to _Canis Major_ and its brightest star. He wished he sounded strong and brave like Sirius would have been - his brother in the face of certain death would have squared his shoulders, raised his chin and looked death in the eye, perhaps, he would have even laughed one last time. Never before had he wished so badly to be more like Sirius: fearless, steadfast, heroic... but Regulus was none of those. He was just a scared, little boy.

With a shuddering breath, he realised that very early in his life, it already had been too late. 

***

When Regulus was a boy, he had never sought comfort in his parents’ arms. Orion and Walburga Black were terrifying, and they seemed so cold; he had always been too scared to go to them with his fears. Instead, whenever Regulus had a nightmare or couldn't fall asleep, he went to his brother, crawled into Sirius’ bed and cuddled into his warm body.

Sirius’ room stood empty, gathering dust for three years now, and yet, it still felt like a safe place. Regulus could have hidden there if he didn’t want anyone to find him – could have curled up between the bed and the bedside table with a book in his lap, sat quietly and pretended he wasn’t there while his parents raged and shouted two floors below him.

This time, the house was quiet except for the clock that kept counting off seconds left of Regulus’ life with a rhythmic _tick-tock-tick-tock_. His mother had gone to bed some time ago, leaving him undisturbed to say his goodbyes, not that she knew. No one but Regulus knew he was going to die tonight.

Had he been not so terrified, he would have laughed at the irony that the first thing he had decided for himself was the manner of his death. The choice was his - for the first time in his life, Regulus was doing something, not because his parents asked him to do it or because he feared Bella’s wrath, but because he knew he had to do it. He was the only one who could do it. But knowing it was the right thing to do – the only thing he could do to atone for his sins - didn’t stop his hands from shaking or make him any stronger.

The Sorting Hat put him in Slytherin, not Gryffindor, after all. Regulus was not like Sirius – he was not as brave, talented, handsome or bright. The Black brothers were as different as night and day, dark and light, and the only thing they seemed to have in common were the grey eyes, black hair and the names taken from the night sky.

He wished he could have talked to Sirius one last time. For a fleeting moment, Regulus thought about going to see his brother and telling him what he was about to do, but the thought went away as quick as it came. Not only, did he not know where he could find his brother, but Sirius would never have believed him. Sirius knew what Regulus was, and he would sooner curse him than give him a chance to speak and explain. The days of whispering under the stars were long gone, and only Regulus kept revisiting them in his head time and time again, always searching for the moment the pretty bubble burst and only ash remained from their beautiful friendship.

Shaking his head, Regulus walked to the wardrobe and pulled out Sirius’ old robes. The robes were old and a little worn-out, but since Regulus was shorter and thinner than Sirius, they fit him perfectly. A faint scent of leather and muggle cigarettes his brother had a habit of smoking filled his nostrils, and Regulus felt as if a part of Sirius was with him.

Instantly, Regulus felt braver. He clenched his fists, this time in determination, and strode out of the room in search of Kreacher. It was time.

***

They landed in the dark tunnel with slimy walls. The water sloshed around Regulus’ ankles, soaking the fabric of his robes. He whispered, “ _Lumos_ ,” and a ball of gold-coloured light came out of his wand, casting a warm glow over the wet stone of the cave.

“This is the place,” Kreacher’s voice shook, and the elf curled into himself as he stared blankly at the wall in front of them. 

Regulus knew what he needed to do. He took out a small dagger from his pocket and slashed it across his palm. For a short moment, he watched blood dripping from the cut before he shook his head and smeared the blood over the stone.

An arched outline appeared on the wall, blazing white as though there was a powerful light behind the crack. The blood-covered rock within it vanished, leaving an opening into what seemed total darkness.

Regulus took a big, gulping breath, tasting the salt from the sea on his tongue and made a step forward. He stopped at the edge of the rock; Ahead was a lake that was black as night and eerily calm, but he knew it was just a deception - under the surface, an army of Inferi waited for the fool who would dare to drink the water from the lake.

_That will be me_. A shrill, hysterical giggle bubbled out of his lips, Regulus clamped a hand over his mouth, but he couldn’t stop laughing. The sound echoed, bouncing from the walls of the cave in an endless circle until it seemed like a dozen of half-mad men were there with them, laughing maniacally. Kreacher watched him with wide, bloodshot eyes, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he choked out, trying to calm down. He did not want to cause the elf more stress – it was enough that he had forced Kreacher to take him, and still, there was more he would need from him.

Regulus did not remember the journey through the lake. Staring at the marble hands and swollen faces of men, women and children floating just beneath the surface, he kept wondering if he’d become one of them after his death. _Will they tear me apart or will I become another guardian swimming mindlessly in the murky water?_

“We’re here,” Kreacher tugged at his sleeve, and they climbed out of the boat onto a small island in the middle of the lake. Regulus stumbled as he stepped onto the solid ground.

On the top of a pedestal, stood a stone basin filled to the brim with a liquid emitting emerald glow. Regulus swallowed hard and willed himself to move, but his feet did not seem to work as they should. He stood straight and tense, staring at the basin with wide eyes. The only sounds he heard was the blood whooshing in his head, the frantic beating of his heart and the soft murmur of the lake.

Suddenly he realised he was only eighteen years old and five months ago, he had been at Hogwarts – celebrating the ends of exams on the Quidditch pitch, whizzing and zig-zagging in the air on his broomstick with the wind whipping at his robes and the sun warming his face. Five months ago, he had sat at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall and thought about the future that was ahead of him – dying alone in a dark cave was not something he had considered at that time.

Death was always an abstract idea; he knew one day he would die – death was natural, but he did not expect that day to come so soon. Regulus was _eighteen_ , and yet his life would end tonight. Why had he never appreciate it more?

From his pocket, he took out the locket and the bottle with Drink of Despair. He took a deep breath before he turned to the elf, “Kreacher, once I drink the potion, I need you to switch the lockets,” he held the locket between his shaking fingers, “and then, you need to fill the basin with a potion from the bottle.”

Kreacher’s eyes bulged out of its sockets, “No, Master Regulus can’t drink it. Kreacher will do it-”

“No,” Regulus interrupted him, glad his voice didn’t crack, “you’ve done enough. I won’t cause you pain anymore. When you fill the basin, you have to disapparate. Go home, but keep your head down, it would be better if people didn’t know you’re alive.”

“No!” the elf wailed.

“Destroy the locket, Kreacher, do it for me, please,” he rubbed Kreacher’s shoulder, waiting until the elf calmed down before he continued, “you mustn’t tell anyone what had happened to me, do you understand? No one can know what I did, not even my mother.”

Kreacher shook terribly, and fat tears rolled down his cheeks, but after a long moment, the elf nodded his head, “Kreacher will do as Master Regulus says.”

“Thank you,” he smiled through tear-filled eyes, “you’ve always been such a good friend to me.” He took another breath and another. After conjuring a cup, Regulus dipped it in the basin, filling it to the brim with Drink of Despair. He raised the goblet to his mouth, and turned to the elf once more, “you need to make sure I will drink it all, Kreacher. No matter what will happen, you have to make sure I drink it all.”

He gulped down the potion.

He was burning. As the liquid slid down his throat, an unimaginable pain followed – the blood boiled in his veins, his nerves were on fire, and his heart clenched tight. He grasped at the stone and shut his eyes as his insides seared. Blindly, he filled the goblet again and drank. It was pain like he had never felt before – the potion swirled in his stomach, burning and searing, but Regulus forced himself to drink.

Then, came the visions - horrifying images full of blood, torture and death. Through the thick fog of pain, Regulus heard screaming and begging; it took him a while to realise the sounds came out of his mouth. Someone held the goblet to his lips, helping him drink, and murmuring soft words in a shaky voice, but Regulus barely noticed.

A shaking hand brought the goblet to his mouth, “it’s the l-l-last, I s-swear. It’s t-t-the l-last one.”

He drank the fill. The potion left a terrible taste in his mouth – bitter and sour and too sweet at the same time. It was the taste of death. 

He needed water.

Delirious and half-mad, Regulus searched for water until his eyes fell on the calm surface of the lake. The black water called to him, whispered his name, promising the relief he desired so badly, and Regulus crawled on his hands and knees towards the shore. Behind him, he heard sounds that did not matter, words choked between sobs, but it was water he needed.

It felt icy-cold, and Regulus would have cried happy tears, but pale hands came out of the water and started clawing at his robes. He fell on his back and tried to escape, but there was no escaping death.  
You knew that before you came here, you knew how it would end, a faint voice whispered in his ear. 

Corpses crawled out of the lake – tens, hundreds or maybe, thousands of them. They grasped Regulus' legs and tore his skin with their sharp claws, scratching0 and biting, slowly dragging Regulus to the lake and below the surface of the black water.

Before he could blink, he was underwater, pumping his legs furiously to chase away the Inferi as his lungs filled with water.

_Have I been brave, brother?_

Everything went dark.

**Author's Note:**

> If you're reading this note, it probably means you read the story, so thank you for your time.
> 
> I had a fleeting thought to turn this into a full story - keep Regulus alive and put him in Hogwarts instead of Snape. Who knows, maybe I'll do it one day.
> 
> Paintpuddles, thank you for correcting my errors!


End file.
